Adagio In Four Parts
by ElvenAngelMayCry
Summary: One-shot. Four moments of Sparda and Eva's life before the end. Love and family, friendship and loss, gratitude and grief. Human life is oddly complicated, but only makes it sweeter. Tied to Frail Equilibrium. SpardaxEva, OCs.


Written with help from AlexxShadenk; my deepest thanks for all your help. I love you, man.

I know I said I was going to take a break to plan a sequel, but as is typical with me...I didn't. This ties with/prequels my first DMC fanfic, Frail Equilibrium. If not much makes sense from this, read Frail Equilibrium, at least till chapter 4, and things will fall into place.

Dedicated to Divine-Star; a mere thanks for the inspiration her art has been to mine.

Thank you and enjoy the story.

* * *

**Adagio In Four Parts**

The soft click of the door echoed down the hallway as Eva left the twins' room. They had finally fallen asleep, after playfully refusing to do so for nearly an hour. She turned and walked down the hallway to the stairwell and quietly headed downstairs, her slippers barely making any sound on the hardwood steps. She took a look out of the staircase window and gladly noted that it had stopped raining. It was a bit of a chilly night, so she tugged her wool robe over herself gratefully. At the bottom of the stairs, she crossed the hall and approached the study and with a serene smile. She rapped the door gently with her knuckles before entering.

Sparda's lips stretched to a smile. He didn't need to guess who was coming in. He was reclined in a rather large, comfortable chair, lined with dark red textile and matted with elegantly carved wood, with fine gold-painted details. As she walked into the room, he turned his attention to her.

"Today was rather quick, comparing--You're actually getting good at putting them to sleep", he said teasingly, trying to adjust his monocle, but eventually decided to remove it entirely, placing it on the small table next to him, loaded with books and manuscripts. He rubbed the bridge of his nose briefly, to alleviate it from the pressure of the monocle resting against it. He had taken off his deep purple coat, letting it rest over the back of the chair.

Eva smiled back at his teasing, one hand on the doorknob and the other on her waist. She chuckled softly, shutting the door behind her. "I suppose they just played more than usual today and wore themselves out. They've got your strength already. I blame you for getting them excited with your tales of battles and heroism," she replied with a similarly teasing manner, walking up to him with a loving smile. "Have you been busy today as well, my dear?"

"Ah," he sighed, taking his middle finger and thumb to his temples and the other hand around her waist as she walked up, wanting to pull her closer to him. "It's been more tiring for my head than a battle could've ever been for me. I know it's still too early, but I need to find a way to split it precisely and the only ones with the knowledge to do so were devils. I'm running out of sources for research."

Eva rested her pelvis against the armrest of his chair as his hand rested around her waist and put her hands on his shoulder and the other to his cheek, endearingly. She smiled in a sympathetic manner. "You know I trust your judgment, even if I too think it's early," she said calmly.

"But I wonder, have you considered visiting...you know, that man--Eric? The young man who wielded fire. Sophie mentioned in one of her letters that he has taken a big interest in metallurgy. Perhaps he could do something?" she suggested.

Sparda was a bit apprehensive of the thought. "Oh don't be preposterous, Eva," he muttered, his arms embracing her and pulled her into his lap. He tucked her comfortably against him with a hand caressing her shoulder, while the other went around her waist. "I'm not sure if a…_changeling_ can be of any help. He's still human, I wouldn't think of exposing him to such a powerful demonic artifact."

Thinking about it for a moment though, and weighing the possible alternatives and his chances, he finally sighed. "But I really don't have a choice, do I?"

Eva chuckled as she settled on his lap and snuggled against him gently, resting her head on his shoulder. "Come, come, you know he isn't that bad. I think he might have some way of helping you—and you know he does, you studied him for long before you decided to help him by preventing that obnoxious wiccan coven from obliterating the poor soul."

She gingerly remembered the day the two of them had also attended the rather hastily prepared marriage of the other couple, before the two young people eloped to avoid the wrath of the bride's mother, who was not at all happy with the match of her daughter to a former underling of demons.

"That was different…convincing a band of terrified fools that turning into the very same executioners they had made that man out to be wasn't the best solution. This is hardly as simple; its of utmost importance that I don't get this wrong, my love."

His eyes wandered away from her into the entrancing dance of the warm fireplace, and he wondered whether the changeling would be able to be of any help. He had never actually seen him use the full extent of his fire-controlling powers, as the human had made some kind of vow to abhor from fighting before Sparda even met with him.

She stroked his cheek, still resting her head on his shoulder. "Just go speak with him, it won't hurt you," she insisted. "He'll be happy to help you, I'm sure. You did him an enormous favor."

Listening to her argument, he rested his temple on her head and embraced her tight for a moment.

"Alright," he said, giving in, having grown somewhat drowsy; but then he let out a light chuckle. "Strange, how I spend an entire day researching when I can just sit here with you and listen for one minute."

She chuckled lovingly, holding up her hand and pressing his nose softly with her finger. "Because you are so wise that you tend to think a little _too_ hard sometimes, Dark Knight Sparda," she said cheerfully.

He smiled. "Everything's just so simple to you, isn't it? Sometimes I envy you carefree way of seeing things."

"Not always, naturally, but someone's got to look on the bright side!" she replied, pulling back to look at him. "You've been worrying very much lately. Troubling yourself so intensely makes you miss the obvious. Things will get better, you'll see," she said, before gently leaning in and pecking his lips. He almost greedily responded with passion, but in a dazed kind of way. He was tired but resisted his fatigue and let a drawn out breath from his nose before parting their lips.

"I'm also rather worried about the boys' powers . They _are _growing fast. They don't understand the extent of their power—I shall have to put some limit on their power's growth, less they become arrogant. I shall need to place a seal on the swords."

She stroked his chest under the soft shirt, soothingly. "There you go, worrying again," she mock sighed. "Just go see the man, get an opinion. Since his wife is a wiccan, she might have some old knowledge of the witches to lend you. _Tsk, tsk, tsk_, for a man of your legacy, you still don't quite trust your allies!"

"You forget I'm not truly a man," he paused, inhaling through his mouth slightly before resuming his words "--however impossible that may seem...sometimes even _I_ wonder how did I ever start out my existence as a demon."

She sat up a little and prodded his forehead with her index finger softly, assuming a look rather alike that of a schoolteacher's scolding children. "A quirk of nature, no doubt," she started, teasingly, but it melted into a sublime tenderness as she smiled at him while removing her hand. "Of the most fortunate nature, of course, otherwise we probably would not be here."

"Intriguing, aren't they, these thoughts," he said as he mused her charming eyes.

She mused back, lovingly looking down on his blue eyes, that always reminded her of a lake covered in a stark sheet of ice. So frozen and still at first glance, yet still alive and stirring with life just under the surface. "Intriguing isn't really the word I'd use, but it'll do for now," she said, resting her head against his shoulder again. "I see so much of you in the boys. Part of me wants them to grow into wonderful men like you, but part of me also wants them to stay children forever. Its a bit embarrassing."

Sparda smiled kindly, thinking of the same thing. "I can understand your feelings, my love. I won't lie; the thought crosses my own mind at times. Watching them grow seems to be happening so fat. We can only hope that we have raised them well. Along with _other_ things."

She nodded dully, somewhat mesmerized by the fireplace's dancing flames. "That's true. I only hope they'll learn from your virtue and your teaching, once you start tutoring them."

She sighed softly. "Ah, just listen to me, I'm sounding like an old woman, aren't I?" she said, bringing one hand to her forehead, laughing a little bit.

But the demon knight said nothing. He merely mused the fireplace, finally not thinking about anything. His mind was finally at rest for the night, having settled the idea of seeking out the changeling.

Eva watched him relax. He looked much better when he was serene. "Would you like some tea, dear? Or perhaps a coffee?" she asked him softly.

He smiled at that suggestion. "Hahaha, but my dear Eva, you know how a late coffee can keep me up all night."

* * *

The following evening was rather chilly and mist-strewn from the rain that had fallen over the night, and then again for much of the morning. The streets were all but crowded, with only a few people walking along the pavements, going about their daily evening business. Stores were quiet this time of the day, without many shoppers. The street lamps were lit, shedding a mellow white light along the pavements and over the road. Hardly any car passed on the street. 

Near the end of the road, a smaller street opened into a neighborhood crammed between the larger buildings of the district. A series of houses and small shops occupied the narrow, but comfortable buildings. Most of them were no taller than two stories high, built with brick and tile roofing. More than a decade old at least, their owners kept them in good condition. People busied themselves in their homes, and the few stores among them were quiet, their owners cozily reading newspapers or watching their small, in-shop television sets.

Towards the back of the neighborhood, one of the houses spewed smoke out of a chimney in the back, and ever so often, a stray spark would float up and die away in the misty weather.

This was the house of the family Sparda was headed to in this humid morning. His black shoes made the wet gravel crack under his steps and yet the few people on the streets didn't seem to hear, or care enough to notice his otherwise obvious presence. Dressed in a fine dark pair of trousers, with an elegant, deep purple overcoat, his left arm was secured around a rather bulky, heavy-looking oblong box, covered in black leather and framed with steel.

As he spotted the chimney within his walking range, he came to a stop, sighed and walked along the pathway towards the porch of the house. Reaching the front door and without wasting any time, he turned the back of his right hand at the door and knocked on it with the knuckles of his index and middle fingers, three times and patiently awaited.

Even before he knocked, he heard the faint sounds of some kind of commotion going on within the house. They sounded as if someone was running along hardwood flooring, fast and without caring about the noise.

A female voice, coming closer to the door, called out something that was not heard well enough, before the door swung open slowly and a young woman, no older than 22 appeared at the threshold, in a sand-colored sweater and a pair of black trousers, with a white apron around her waist and a purple hair band holding black trails of hair off her face. She seemed flushed, as if she had been busy with something, and then her brows went up among her hair as her eyes widened slowly in surprise.

"Oh--Lord Sparda!" she uttered, surprised and taking a hasty step to the side, allowed him to come in. "Please, do come in. It's good to see you after so long."

The front door opened to a small, but pleasant hallway into which Sparda stepped into, with a set of stairs leading up to the second floor, a door leading to the left into a kitchen, another leading to the back of the house, and a third opening to the right into a cozy living room. The house itself was much smaller than his abode, but still comfortably arranged.

Sparda mused the young woman, Sophie, pleased to see her well, and then the surroundings, obviously catching on to this morning's events in the Templar residence.

"She's giving you trouble, isn't she?" he said with a small smile. He guessed that the reason for her winded look was probably her young daughter. From the little he knew about her family's current situation, he guessed her to be just a little younger than his sons. He paused his steps at the foot of the stairs and looked back at her.

Sophie shut the door behind her and turned back around with her hands folded on her lap, smiling awkwardly with a bit of a blush.

"Oh, yes, a little. She's--" she started, but a thumping set of quick footsteps came from the hallway leading back in the house, and then a child, a girl no older than 4 with a short ponytail of vivid red hair burst out of the hall, giggling and clutching a piece of paper in one hand and a couple of crayons, yellow and orange, in the other.

She sped up to Sophie, who gasped and turned to catch her before she would collide into her legs. The excited girl bumped into her mother's apron with a happy squeak, completely ignoring the new presence--or rather, paying more attention to her mother first. She pulled back excitedly then waved the paper over her head.

"Mommy, look!" she said in an adorable soft voice. "Daddy showed me how!"

She held up to her mother the paper, showing off a yellow, five-pointed star with a long orange and yellow streak after it-- a shooting star. The whole thing was quite crudely and childishly drawn, the paper smudged and crumbled a little, but had that odd charm that children's drawings always have.

Sophie cast an awkward glance at Sparda, then turned back to her daughter. "Its lovely Tessie, I'm very proud of you!" Sophie said, praising the little redhead lovingly and ruffling the child's hair a bit. "But I think you need to go to your room now. Lord Sparda is here and no doubt, he's got some important work to do with Daddy."

Sparda mused the little girl, smiling with a sense of heart-warming feeling. He absently thought it was these little things that he ultimately had fought for, this innocence and this blissful ignorance of evil. He smiled wider, remembering his own sons often acting somewhat like that, not long ago. He chuckled at the thought and wasn't at all worried about the little girl's presence. "Now don't worry about that. I won't be long," he said kindly.

The child gave a giggle and then finally seemed to notice Sparda. She turned and looked up at him, throwing her head back to be able to see him from her short stature. She had a round, doll-like face, fairer skin than her mother, rosy lips and cheeks pink from excitement. She looked like a porcelain doll, indeed. But her eyes were huge -or at least, they seemed huge from the thick eyelashes she had- curious and green like fields of endless grass. She stared up curiously, without speaking. But there was something...unsettling in the child's gaze, although he couldn't pin down what. Like she saw right through him. It made the hair of the back of his neck stand upright, a little.

The little girl lay silent for a moment staring him with a calm, almost knowing expression, then suddenly her face filled with an adorable, wide smile and she pointed up at him and joyfully declared: "Heehee! Prince Charming!" she giggled and before her mother could stop her, she raced past him for the narrow staircase leading upstairs.

Sophie made a small face of disdain and called after her "Tessie! You little troll, that was rude! You mustn't point at people!"

She let a small sigh and with a faintly red face, apologized for her daughter's wildness. "I'm so sorry. She's so energetic sometimes we just can't stop her. I'm pretty sure she won't become a bother though. You wish to see my husband, Sir?"

He couldn't reply to Sophie without first taking his hand away from his lips, as he was trying to hide a wide smile and chuckled, turning that chuckle into light laughter.

"Goodness, what are you telling her these days? That was _so_ unexpected," he said, amused. "I've been called a myriad of names and titles, but that was certainly a first!"

Sophie chuckled as well. "I think Eric's to blame. He's been reading her too many fairytales, but she won't fall asleep without them. She loves her father's voice," she said.

Sparda smirked a little at the idea of a former warrior of the Underworld, reduced to reading fairytales to his child, before he remembered that upon occasion he had caught himself doing the very same for his sons. "Oh don't get me started on that," he said before going back to the purpose of his visit. "Where _is_ Eric then?"

"In his workshop, in the back. Please, this way," she said, gesturing him to follow. "He's been working a lot lately. I think he's gotten ideas to work with. By the way, how is Lady Eva? And your sons, are they all well?" she asked, politely.

Sparda followed her down the hall. "We're all well, thank you. And the boys are starting to…develop, sure enough," he said, avoiding to directly express the fact that the twins were already showing some demonic abilities.

Sophie understood what that meant and nodded. "They must be a handful as well. I hope they are not tiring Lady Eva," she said, opening a door in the back of the hall.

A wave of warmer air came from there, along with the distinct scent of burning wood, metals and tools. It was just a little larger than a garage, with a small furnace at one end that burned warmly, benches along one of the walls with cupboards under them and a large workbench in the middle of the room, near the furnace, with an anvil standing right by it. Cardboard boxes were piled in one corner of the room, along sheets of metals resting against the wall and some finished pieces of work, like the elegant brass head and foot pieces of a bed, an intricate mirror frame with an exquisitely elaborate pattern of embossed ivy leaves carved on it, and a small brass statue of an eagle perched on a branch.

There was no sound of hammering or soldering of metals though, as one would expect in a metallurgy workshop. The brightest fire was not in the furnace either.

Concentrated on the workbench in front of him, a tall man was absorbed in his work and did not hear the door open. He had a mop of red hair -like the child's, actually- unkempt and sticking up, then falling along the back of his neck. He was wearing jeans that were dusted, worn from use, with a couple of burn holes on them and an equally worn and dirty brown shirt, with the sleeves folded up to his elbows.

He wasn't wearing gloves of any type. He was busy, stretching and altering a mass of what looked like glowing wire with a red sheen. It seemed to float through his fingers as he gently pulled and tugged it in places, re-arranging it in a careful, calculated manner. Still holding it with one hand, he reached over and picked up a bar of silver, no larger than a teaspoon and about the circumference of a coin. Holding it, a flare curled up from his hand and the silver bar softened, then quickly melted into a mass of gray, glowing wires and bits. He brought together the two masses of wires that he held, carefully pushing the gray into the red material, and began plucking and smoothing it out, almost like clay, but his gestures were more elegant, slow and careful. Almost like performing surgery.

He rustled around with it for a tiny bit and then held up the glowing object and after a moment's inspection, blew on it gently. All glow seemed to whisk off, like the flame off a candle, leaving behind what seemed to be the basic shape of a circular frame, large enough to be held in one's hand, with bumps and vague shapes sticking out of the circumference, like it was reluctant about its shape. It was a mesh of silver and gold, perfectly fit together, but never merging.

"Eric, dear," Sophie said, making the man turn his face over. "Lord Sparda is here to see you."

Eric looked over, revealing the typical pale skin of a Scandinavian, dark brown eyes and a small goatee of red on his chin. His long face was otherwise handsome, but marred by a series of diagonally left scars that swept across his face from the forehead to his neck, as if a beast had tried to tear his face off. He looked a bit surprised, still holding whatever he was working on.

"Oh—hello, Lord Sparda. Long time no see," he said, in perfect English, with a vague foreign accent.

Sparda gazed at him with a raised brow; he was still unused to seeing the battle-ravaged 'hitman of Hell' as an artisan. He studied the scaring and regretted the day he had watched it happen upon the young man and yet had not prevented it. He regretted it now. All things considered, Sparda didn't know all that much about the changeling other than the reasons he was led into saving him.

"Well... I take it you've been making good use of your time on this side, I hope?" he said with a small smile.

Eric put the unfinished hand-mirror frame on the bench and picked up a piece of cloth to wipe his hands off. "Quite good, yes," he replied, leaning his pelvis against the bench. "All my life I was taught to destroy and then I got sick of destruction. Creating things is a better alternative. And you, Lord Sparda? I believe two sons are enough to keep you occupied as a father, or is the Dark Knight finding his boys too much to handle?" he added, a bit pointedly in a well-meaning joke.

Sparda smirked. "They're enough to keep all four of our hands busy, I'll give you that," he said, then loosely stepped towards Eric and directed his right hand at him for a hand shake, looking him in the eyes. "Let's not forget our manners, shall we?"

Eric chuckled, and putting down the cloth, stepped ahead as well, putting out his hand as well. Although far from perfectly 'habilitated' yet, he had left far behind him the complete lack of civilized behavior that lesser demons had.

"It's always good to see you," Eric said. "I should not be lying if I say you are the only person I am not wary to meet eye to eye with. I trust you've been well," he added, making a gesture with the arm to silently let him know that he could put down the case he carried on one of the benches.

"Yes, I see what you mean. Well...we've been doing fine. Those kids grow fast," Sparda replied and then moved to place the case down on the countertop. "But, let me get onto what brought me here today. After just seeing you now, I think you may indeed be exactly the sort of help I need."

Eric eyed Sophie for a moment and she understood, nodding and leaving them in the workshop, closing the door behind her. Eric walked over to the bench as Sparda opened the case, revealing two beautifully crafted swords; a broadsword with a hilt adorned with a skull, and an elegant katana in a dark-colored scabbard.

Eric inspected the two blades. He let a small, dull whistle between his teeth, admiring the swords. "Oh, I see. _I see_. Yes, I'd expect something like this. You were right to come. No _human_ can work on these," he said, slightly awed.

"Yes", Sparda agreed in a majestic tone, "And the type of work I need done is...well, I need to place a seal upon them. You see, these blades were forged by and intended for high rank demons and they have great powers. I will be bestowing my sons with these and…I want to seal their potential until my sons are ready for the forces these weapons can unlock within them. I know this is rather harsh but--I want their demonic essences and the link they will have with the twins to be locked until the day they taste their respective keeper's blood. And then there's this."

He took the amulet secured to his necktie, showing it to Eric. "To each of my sons I want to trust half of this amulet and nothing else can split this gem in two but a demon. I would do it myself but this requires expertise, as its properties must not be lost and I need both halves to join once again, if needed; and once both halves are connected again...it is meant to bring forth immense powers."

Eric listened carefully, slipping his hand to the back pocket of his jeans and taking out a packet of cigarettes. He pulled one out and brought it to his lips, while putting the packet away. He touched the end of the cigarette with his index finger and lit it.

He inhaled some smoke, taking the cigarette from his lips and observed the swords and then the amulet for a brief moment, pensive.

"That _is_ a demanding and very delicate task to achieve. Any little mistake could be rather messy. The swords' essence will try to resist the change no doubt, any way one might go about it. But I think I can manage. I know my way around demon swords--I was usually on the wrong end of one for over twenty years," he said, biting his cigarette's filter and moving back to the center bench. "But we'll need room--" he said, pushing the bench backwards against the wall with a grunt, wincing as the wooden legs dragged against the floor. "And a lotta fire. Well, at least _I've_ got a lot of _that_ here. Lets see."

He moved back to the workbench where the swords lay, and after a moment's thought, picked up the katana.

"Oh. Nice, fine work on this one. High quality work, even for demonic standards. I imagine anyone on the receiving end of a cut won't know what hit him," he said, drawing the blade out of the scabbard halfway and examining the edge carefully.

"Well then...I trust you will treat them with the proper respect," Sparda mused, reaching into his coat and retrieved two small vials, labeled 'Dante' and 'Vergil', respectively, passing them to Eric, who looked at them after he replaced the katana in the case, then looked back at Sparda, expecting an explanation.

Sparda indicated the broadsword. "This one, the Rebellion, is meant for Dante," he said, then moved to the katana. "And the Yamato is meant for Vergil."

Eric stared, a little curiously, at Sparda and then smiled a little bit. "You know Sparda," he said with a small sigh. "You _are_ quite breaking my promise to myself to not work with weapons and tools of destruction. But I like challenges. Let me see what I can manage off the hook," he added slyly, carefully putting the vials with the blood of the children on a soft, folded piece of cloth while he gazed over to the furnace.

A heavy anvil let a sizzling sound as it heated up abruptly, to red glowing point and the molten material slithered along the floor like a fiery snake, yet did not burn a thing and then built itself into a pile between the two men. Two thinner trails of metal shot up like branches and their ends curled, turning over to shape almost like hands, as Eric unsheathed the Yamato completely and rested the blade on the abruptly cooling support he created.

He laid hands on the sword, fixing his gaze on it, like a doctor examining a patient. He stroked the elegant curve of the blade gently, heating it slowly and feeling the metal and taking in its variations. The sword seemed to give off a faint glow and radiate quite a lot of heat. Now Eric could feel it's every smallest bit, his fingers making the surface of the blade ripple like water, though the blade did not lose its shape. Immensely delicately, he stroked the surface of the sword from the hilt towards the tip, making soft ripples move from the cross-guard towards the tip, each stroke gently smoothing it out. Any anomaly, scratch or minor damage that might have been caused by past battles smoothed out and disappeared.

By concentrating, Eric could bring out the very essence of a metal, and do as he pleased with it. He did so now, raising his hand from the blade and a thin trail of what looked like silvery threads pulled out and their ends rippled up like water before they fell back into its form. Eric reached for the vial labeled with Vergil's blood, and without pausing for anything, opened it and emptied the small quantity over the blade. Upon falling into the immense heat radiating from the sword, the blood turned into vapor, but did not escape; rather it was pulled in from the silvery threads, meshing in with them, weaving itself into the very heart of the sword as the threads sunk back into the sword.

"This is done," Eric said, smoothing out the surface of the sword with one hand, the ripples now settling into the new shape. "It's true, the sword has great powers and resisted, but I think I…spoke to its heart," he jested. "No, in all actuality, my ability to bend fire's every manifestation brings metals into my command so long as fire takes them into its command. I'm not quite done though; this was just the first step."

Sparda watched, his eyebrows rising. What he had heard of the changeling's abilities was true: he really was something completely different than a mere pyromancer. "Impressive, my friend."

He smiled in a proud manner and took a hand to Eric's shoulder that handled the blade. "I will leave you to the rest of your work. You have my deepest thanks," he said, as he finally was certain enough to place the amulet within the case of the swords with his other hand to take his leave. "I have other things which I must attend to."

Eric smiled, a little awkwardly. He was clearly not used to such compliments, still, particularly from someone of Sparda's standing. He nodded respectfully, smiling back. "I understand, Sparda. Come again tomorrow, by noon. I should have them complete."

Sparda smiled, and after a departing, warm handshake with Eric, showed himself out of the workshop, closing the door behind him courtly. As he walked back out to the hallway, Sophie emerged from the stairs. "Has all gone well then, Lord Sparda?" she asked politely.

"Yes. I think Eric might solve my problems with this issue, and I'll go as far as to call that godsend. I shall be very grateful to him," he replied with a serene smile. "I suppose I'll just take my leave for today and let him get to his work."

Sophie smiled kindly. "We are the ones grateful, Sir, and I'm sure Eric's more than happy to oblige you."

"I bid you farewell then. I will come see you again, sometime—" he started, when a small giggle came from the staircase and the little redhead peeked through the railings of the stairs.

"Tessie, you're supposed to be in bed!" Sophie said with a slightly exasperated look.

"Sorry Mommy!" she replied. "Bye-bye, Mr. Prince Charming!" she went on and waved at Sparda, then scurried off up the stairs. Sophie just chuckled a little, shaking her head.

Sparda couldn't help smiling at the little child and spontaneously returned the gesture of waving at her. "Take care, little girl," he said, the bid her mother farewell too. He opened the front door and helped himself out, gently closing the door behind him and walked his way down the path of the Templar residence, to return to his own abode.

* * *

In the Sparda household, Eva looked up, hearing the doorbell ring and so left her preparation of the dinner in the kitchen to go open the door. She chuckled as she opened it, coming face to face with her husband. "Did you forget your keys again?" she giggled. 

Sparda just smiled, awkwardly, stepping inside. "I'm sorry, my dear. I had a lot on my mind when I walked out this morning and I sort of forgot about them" he said, and embraced his wife in a passionate kiss whilst closing the door behind him with a hand.

"Have they come down yet?" he then asked, whilst taking off his coat.

Eva smiled, after returning the kiss of her husband. "Oh, not yet," she started "but it's nearly dinner time now, so I assume--"

A loud crash, like something being knocked over and breaking was heard from upstairs, along with a small yelp and then the sounds of small feet thumping along the floor.

They both looked towards the stairway; Sparda sighed and rubbed his forehead with his fingertips. "Always breaking something... I'm beginning to wonder whether it's just childish clumsiness persisting, or whether they're just trying to test our patience," he sighed.

Eva rubbed his shoulder. "They're just children dear, they'll learn to control themselves soon. Speaking of children, how are the Templars doing?"

Hearing this, he poked the sensitive spot on her waist where he knew she was ticklish. "Why is everyone asking me how someone else is today?"

Eva shrugged and stiffened a little, giggling as he tickled her. "Hahah...! Well you're the one who's been out today," she chuckled. "Did everything go well with Eric, dear?" she then asked, absently reaching up to straighten his necktie a little.

"Surprisingly well," he admitted. "Now that I think about it, his confidence kind of worried me. He said he would be done by tomorrow, but I wonder how real that will be," he went on, rubbing hic chin skeptically, then shrugged a little, looking at her. "However, I feel quite famished, can I hope you've prepared one of your miracle dinners?"

Eva chuckled. "Oh, I've made some nice stew. It's the best thing during winter." Then she smiled with a little sly grin. "And I also have some cake. Your favorite: Devil's Food."

Sparda smiled, catching that beloved joke they had between them, and kissed her lips. "You're lovely, Eva but frankly no food is better than your lips."

She gave an amused laugh, kissing him back. "You know how to talk to a woman, Sparda," she jokingly teased. "Now come eat, the stew is only best when its still warm," she said, tugging him to the kitchen and dining table.

"What, none for the boys, then?" he said, following her to the kitchen then sitting down at his usual position at the head of the table and comfortably pulling it forwards to adjust his position, laying a napkin on his lap.

She smiled as she generously filled his dish. "Oh they'll get their dinner but I want to serve you first. They eat like starving little wolves and I'd rather have your dish set before I call them downstairs," she added, bringing his plate in front of him and then returning to fill two more plates and set them in front of two more chairs. She moved to the base of the staircase to call the twins. "Vergil! Dante! Come downstairs children, its dinner time!"

Whatever they were doing, they immediately dropped it to nearly stampede along the hardwood flooring and carpet of the hallway upstairs and stormed down the stairs, racing with "Me first!" and "No way, dinner is mine, Dante!" along with other playful cries towards the dining table.

Sparda mused them as they came racing in, his fingers knotted together in front of his mouth as he leaned on his elbows. He watched the boys greet him cheerfully as they climbed into their seats, audaciously attacking their food without so much as waiting. He responded to their greeting, knowing he couldn't quite convince them to wait for their mother and served some wine for her and himself.

Eva didn't mind, she followed them into the kitchen and finally serving a plate for herself, sat beside her husband for dinner. She smiled, seeing them all around the table. It was these kinds of scenes of simple family felicity honestly made her happy.

* * *

As the sun rose from under the horizon, it gently brushed over the house of Sparda's family. Its warm, pink and yellow morning rays reflected off the windows and glistened through the glass, poking at the Dark Knight's eyelids. He huffed a bit then calmly opened his eyes, winding for a brief moment and yawned. He then sat upright, exposing his bare torso from under the white sheets and deep red, regal cover, embroidered with floral ornaments in deeper red thread, which made the sunrise's presence more evident as the light hit it. 

His hair was an obvious mess and somehow had found its own method to part down the middle, brushing his cheeks over the sides. Realizing it, he took a hand to that _"Accursed bed-hair"_, as he thought to himself, and combed it back over his head while he looked at Eva, still blissful in her sleep.

He smiled. "You don't need to oversleep, you're beautiful already," he quietly whispered, musing her almost childish expression with a light blush.

Eva was well into dreamland still, though the sunlight was starting to wake her up too. She began to stir a little bit and let a sleepy little sound, accompanied with a suiting little pout. As Sparda mused her, she gradually woke up more and more and eventually turned a bit, lying on her back. She opened her eyes with a little yawn and then stretched lavishly under the bedcover, enjoying the feeling.

She looked up at her husband, paying no real attention to her own, much more dreadful bed hair. "Good morning dear," she said. "Slept well I hope?" she added with a vicious yawn she managed to conceal, holding up her hand.

"Don't I always, with you by my side?" he replied as he brushed some hair off her forehead and then her cheek.

She replied with a cheerful little laugh, and stretched again. "Oh my, I feel so lazy today, shame on me," she said, sitting up herself and straightening her hair up a little. "But I had such a dream," she mused, glancing at him sideways a bit.

He raised an eyebrow. "Did you, now?"

He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and brought her closer to him, taking his other hand to her waist and kissed her passionately, brushing his tongue just barely against hers.

She chuckled softly and shuffled closer, shutting her eyes during that sweet and passionate morning kiss. "Hmm, yes. I had a lovely dream. With a beautiful mountain lake and gorgeous trees everywhere around it. It almost felt like some kind of paradise. We were taking a walk through the trees beside the lake, you and I."

She put up her hand and with her pinky finger pushed up and off his forehead a rogue little strand of hair that had detached itself from the rest and flopped forward.

He chuckled and looked at her morning eyes, glittering with slight tears from her previous yawn. "Is that all we did? Pardon me, but that sounded like a rather boring dream."

But Eva's smile turned slightly mischievous. "Oh, that was just the first half. If I mentioned how the rest of it unfolded, you'd call it a pretty scandalous dream for a married lady."

He broke into a laugh. Sometimes she had this charming way of surprising him. "Oh, you're right, don't say it then, _show it_ to your husband right away," he suggested, playing into the joke.

She chuckled. "Its a _very _tempting suggestion, dear, and I would indulge, but I have to make breakfast for three seemingly bottomless stomachs," she said, sitting up from the bed and picking up an elastic hair band off her night-table to tie her still bed-head hair up before changing into clothes.

Though he honestly did seem a little disappointed, Sparda nodded and kissed his wife's forehead.

"You're right. I'm starting to feel my stomach bug drilling the walls," he said that, getting off the bed and stretched his arms out. It made his back muscles seem chiseled as he tensed them in a sloth-like yawn.

Eva mused her husband briefly as she got up from the bed and sliding her feet into her slippers, walked around the bed towards her dresser to find her clothes. She cheekily patted his butt while he stretched, as she passed by him.

He nearly jumped at that gesture, breaking his lazy stretching and yawn. It made him feel awkward for a second, chuckling before smiling warmly at her. "Can't keep your hands to yourself, can you, now?"

Eva chuckled mischievously, changing into her clothes, a dark blue knee length skirt and a dusty purple sweater. "Of course not," she said serenely. "You bring that on yourself! And don't forget, I _am_ aiming for a girl now, after all. Unless you thought the twins were enough for me," she added with a half-joking attitude.

"_Hmph_!" he chuckled in reply, with a hiccup-motion of his torso and head while still smiling, reaching his hands for his pants and after pulling them on, only his white button shirt followed, for the moment. Like a delayed echo, the world 'girl' triggered his memory and without saying anything, he broke the short silence with a giggle as he slowly buttoned his shirt upwards.

Eva was brushing her hair down when she heard him giggle. She looked over her shoulder curiously. "Oh? What are you laughing at?" she asked. "The idea of having a girl in the family sound odd?"

"Not particularly. It's just," he continued, leaving the top two buttons alone and also leaving his cuff buttons unattended, approaching her from the side. "I remembered the Templars' girl yesterday. Funny little thing, she called me something that really cracked me up. She called me 'Prince Charming' once she saw me!"

That comment made Eva laughed as well, finishing the brushing and pulling her hair up with a hairpin and letting the loose end fall over the back of her neck.

"Aw, what a darling," she said, chuckling. "Well that goes to say what a sweet little girl she must be: smart _and_ with good taste," she said, smirking.

"Well...Quite unexpected indeed," he responded, embracing her waist from behind as he looked into her eyes from the reflection of the mirror, "And I'll take your word for it, sweetheart."

Eva smiled back at him, still chuckling at the 'Prince Charming' mention. She made it a point to herself to visit the couple sometime and get to meet the child.

"Thank you dear," she said, turning her head and kissing his cheek. "Now I think I hear a certain pair of twins waking up. I'd better go start with that breakfast," she said, gracefully detaching herself from him and cheerfully going out the room and into the hallway then downstairs to the kitchen.

He watched Eva leaving for a few moments before looking back into the mirror. He shook his head at his hair. "Why don't you just stay there," he muttered under his breath at it, and rearranged his hair with his fingers a bit before putting on a pair of socks and his slippers. He buttoned up his shirt properly and then went downstairs as well.

He too could hear the twins messing around in their room for the moment. Passing by their room, he peeked in, catching the boys already out of bed and rolling on the floor playfully, in a sort of rough, morning ritual they had, where hugging had turned into a competitive sort of 'wrestling'.

"Good morning father!" Vergil panted, who seemed to be overpowering his little brother.

" 'Morning dad!" Dante said as well, trying to push his brother off him.

He rubbed the back of his neck, awkwardly staring at their current activity. " 'Morning. Isn't it too early for that, boys?"

The boys rolled around for a moment before replying and Vergil finally let Dante go after the latter resolved to tickle his brother's ribs, forcing Vergil to let go, giggling.

"Sorry," the boys said almost together.

Sparda just shook his head with a smile. "Well then, come along, breakfast isn't going to eat itself!"

"Alright, breakfast!" Dante exclaimed, nearly shouting it, and dashed out of the room, calling to Vergil. "First one down gets more pancakes!"

"Hey!" Vergil called, dashing straight after him.

Eva was already busying herself in the kitchen when the three of them came downstairs, making some pancakes -enough for a small troop, actually- and brewing a strong Earl Grey tea, which she knew Sparda was especially partial to. She looked over her shoulder towards the staircase, hearing the children run about and she chuckled.

Sparda lagged behind his sons' eager running, feeling a bit like a neglected stray, having to follow his sons down the stairs and eventually came into the kitchen, sitting at his usual seat, rubbing his eye with his index finger and let out a small yawn.

The boys had taken a detour to the bathroom to wash up after Eva's request, so they ended up coming to the table after Sparda and taking their seats opposite him, still yawning occasionally and waiting for breakfast.

"Patience boys, the pancakes are almost ready. And don't fuss about drinking your milk today," Eva warned them, as she finished 'piling' pancakes on each one's plate. She was just about to finish with the last few ones when the doorbell rang.

With her hands busy, she turned a pleading look to Sparda. "Erm, dear could you...? Please?" she said.

"Of course," he replied, standing up and walking his way towards the front door. He calmly opened it and smiled at the sight of the redheaded craftsman he had entrusted the swords and amulet with just yesterday. Sparda looked a bit surprised to see the scar-faced man at his doorstep. Eric looked like he had been up and about for quite some time already.

"Oh, up so early, my friend? Come in, come in," he said, stepping back and opening the door wider to make room for Eric to enter. His brow rose up, nevertheless, at this otherwise unexpected and quite awkward visit. He didn't think Eric could have finished with the swords and the amulet this soon.

Eric, in pretty much the same style of slightly rugged jeans and dull-colored shirt, now complete with a black overcoat that ended at the thighs, stepped inside with a courteous nod, carrying a carefully wrapped package under one arm.

"Thank you, Sir Sparda. Sorry to drop by so early. I can't stay long though," he said with an awkward smile. He looked somewhat embarrassed.

As Eric entered, he closed the door silently behind himself then faced his guest. "Regardless. What brings you here today?"

Eric turned around to face him and presented him with the wrapped, rectangular package. "Its about that...request. It's done. Well, at least part of it," he said.

Sparda eyed him carefully, not certain if he believed him, then took the box and opened it. It was alike the common boxes usually used to store expensive necklaces. Lying between two cotton cloths for protection were two amulets, silver and gold, with the same red stone in them. The one amulet, now split in two equally balanced, matching pieces. Besides the color of the metal, they had absolutely no difference in shape, weight or texture. They were perfectly matching, almost identical.

Seeing his work, Sparda's eyebrows rose a little. He looked up at Eric, slightly doubtful while the changeling stared back calmly, then took one amulet in each hand and examined them, inspecting them from every angle, looking for flaws, and in the end admiring their lack thereof.

"Remarkable, Eric. I can't tell the difference, its as if it's always been two. I couldn't ever have achieved this perfection. I was right to trust you," he said.

Sparda then held them in his palms freely and with his power, the amulets floated off of his hands and they circled a few times in a spiraling motion until they joined together back to back. He held the joint form of the amulets and lowered the chain around his head, letting it finally rest around his neck. The amulet showcased its silver half at the front, where it should be.

Afterwards, he shook hands with Eric. "Thank you for this, you've been of infinite help. I trust the blades' process is going well too?"

Eric smiled, rather proud of the job being done well. "Yes. It's taking a little longer than I thought, but the katana is ready. I should be done with the broadsword this night, or tomorrow morning. I thought I ought to bring the amulet back though," he said, after the handshake, and rubbed the back of his neck. "I'm not quite comfortable with such powerful demonic relics around a very young wiccan child, like Tess. She's taken after her mother's powers as much as mine, and we're not exactly sure what she can do or sense. She seemed nervous when she peeked through my workshop's door."

Sparda nodded, understanding. He looked back at the unnerving feeling the child's gaze had given him. He was now certain she probably knew full well he was a demon, yet still had been surprisingly calm about it, for a child.

Eric looked a bit anxious. "I had better get going now. I have a bit of an errand to do."

"Oh? What is it that you're so hasty about?", said Sparda, crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow.

Eric gave an embarrassed smile. "Tess was kind enough to remind he it's her Sophie's birthday today. I'm hopeless with numbers. Tess insisted I get her something secretly, so I...used the excuse of bringing you the completed amulet to slip out," he admitted.

Not being completely familiar with human culture, he wasn't very much aware that his own daughter had sort of duped him into thinking that getting Sophie a present was all too important to ignore.

Sparda however did and smirked, shaking his head a little, before politely opening the front door once more. "Well then, you should hurry, haha."

Eric nodded in thanks. "Good day to you, then. I'll keep you informed on the progress of my work. Please give my regards to your wife," he said, as he stepped out into the street again, and then vanished into the crowd.

After he left, Sparda quietly shut the door and walked his way back towards the kitchen. "That was Eric, dear," he said, in reply to her questioning look, taking back his seat. "He just dropped by to return the amulet. He's done an amazing job."

Eva looked up at him from serving the twins and making sure they wouldn't make a mess with the maple syrup. "Oh?" she said.

"Then all went well?" she added, eying the amulet around his neck again. "My goodness, I can't tell the difference."

"Exactly. I couldn't either, he's really quite the amazing craftsman," Sparda agreed.

"That's quite a relief then. One less worry on your mind," she said as she sat at the table along her husband, as the twins busied themselves with their food, blissfully uninterested in the conversation of their parents.

"Yes, that's true. For now all I want is to enjoy a nice calm morning with my family," he said smoothly. His head still felt somewhat dormant, with the sweet drowsiness of an early morning, and all he wanted was his tea, already served in his cup. He calmly sipped it with his eyes closed, listening to the sweet sounds of his family's morning chatter.

* * *

Sparda received the completed swords from Eric the following morning. They were, as he had expected, perfect, without almost any change to their substance. He hardly could tell that a powerful rite had been placed within them, to bind them to their future wielders. Eric was very modest about his work, almost embarrassed, and refused any kind of monetary or material payment for his work. He was just happy to have been able to repay even a little of the kindness Sparda had shown him. 

Like the last time, the changeling was short and modest in his dealing with the Dark Knight and again his stay was a short one. Having no support for his family other than his own work, and too proud to accept pittance, he was working busily. But it was clear he enjoyed working with metal.

With that task out of his mind, Sparda could rest a little easier. A few weeks later, there was finally some peace and quiet from the boys. Earlier, Sparda sat at his grand piano during a childish quarrel between the two, and began playing a piece. Eventually the boys stopped, entranced by the music and stared at their father tapping the large ebony and ivory keys in tune with the 'Moonlight Sonata', by Ludwig Van Beethoven. He continued playing it without looking back at his sons, but smiled a little. The two had forgotten about their fight and were now sitting on the carpet near him, watching his hands producing that melodic Sonata, entranced by it as Sparda played it slowly.

Two-thirds into the song, the melody was disrupted slightly by the creak of the door opening. Eva half opened the door and peered inside, with an upset look on her face. She hesitated a little, almost unwilling to disrupt her husband. She caught his attention.

"Dear, I'm sorry to interrupt but do you mind coming into the study? Some important news just arrived," she said, a little lifelessly.

Sparda didn't look at Eva right away, dragging the Sonata as he slowly came to a stop and lowered the lid of the keyboard. The boys watched their mother, then looked up at their father, saying nothing and looked at each other curiously as Sparda stood up and stepped out of the living-room, and followed Eva to the study.

As soon as he stepped into the study, closing the door behind him, he noticed Eva losing most of her composure. She looked tearful and distressed, her brows sewn up in worry. She picked up a letter from the desk and presented it to him.

"Sparda," she said seriously, her voice shaking. "This letter just arrived. It's--oh, its horrible! You must read it. I can't bear to repeat it," she went on, covering her mouth with her hand and looking down, shocked.

Sparda frowned. It was not normal for a woman of her spirit to get this distressed so easily. He knew at once that something serious had happened. Instead of taking the letter right away, he embraced her, trying to calm her down, rubbing the back of her head.

"Eva...You're scaring me. What's wrong, what could possibly ail you this much?" he muttered soothingly.

He didn't wait for her answer and took his other hand to the letter she held up and still holding her against him with one arm, he held the letter up with the other hand and read it silently to himself. Eva rested her forehead on his chest, her hands over her eyes still, crying.

The letter was short, written by a stiff hand in an obviously distressed manner and by the looks of it, somewhat hastily.

_My lord Sparda,_

_I am burdened with the miserable task of delivering you the most unfortunate news. My young mistress Sophie and her husband, Eric, have been murdered._

_Forgive my bluntness. I am too distressed for subtlety._

_It happened last night, from what I can tell. I regret that I was absent from the home, ordered by Sophie to tend to her elderly mother. I returned to find the house burned to the ground almost. I found the remains of many sand-based demons laying about, reduced to shattered glass from, apparently, excessive heat. I presume this to be Eric's doing. _

But I'm afraid both Sophie and Eric suffered tragic, torturing deaths at the hands of demons. Eric had feared for a while that this would happen, he was worried the demons he formerly worked for would come for him.

_Somehow Tess has been spared, but I'm afraid she will be scarred for life. Not so much physically, if I can help it, but mentally. She is so young but she understands all too well what has happened. I've brought her to her grandmother and we will make sure she remains out of the reach of demons. But I'm afraid the damage has been done. She's nearly delirious and will not let go of me, clinging to my person like a terrified kitten. I am worried about her mental health._

_Lord Sparda, though you are the Dark Knight, permit me to warn you: This is merely a beginning. I fear the Underworld is not done with its avenging hunt for blood. I fear they will target you and your family next. For the sake of us all, please, show caution and take care of your family and your own safety._

_Your faithful ally,_

_Abraxas._

As he neared the end of the letter, Eva sobbed quietly at last.

"Its horrible...They were so young, seemed so happy. And the child--my goodness Sparda, she's nearly the same age as the boys. What will become of the poor child," she muttered, shaken.

He was left speechless and deeply in shock. The news came like a thunderbolt, out of the blue, leaving him dumbstruck. He frowned, recalling the man's face; just a week ago he had seen and spoken with him and now-­-

He let the letter drop on the desk and embraced his wife with a hand still on the back of her head. His mind wandered, trying to pin thoughts with words but to no avail. There was nothing he could say. He felt depressed and grief-stricken.

Eva couldn't help her tears. The last part of the letter had frightened her. She looked up, tearful. "Sparda," she whispered. "What is going to happen now? If they--if this is true and demons are responsible...What then?" she asked.

He looked down at her, his forehead sewn up in worry. "Then...my worries and preparations are justified. We must be prepared," he said, as calmly as he could under the present circumstances.

Eva choked a sob. She knew had to stand strong--for the children and her husband. But the news had been too abrupt, reading of the fate that had befallen on the couple and the condition of the surviving girl had shaken her mental strength. Horrible thoughts of her own family in the same position burdened her. She glanced to the side suddenly to see the study door open, just a crack, and the faces of the two boys peering through, curious.

The twins were dumbstruck at sight of their parents clinging together and their mother crying. It was almost haunting.

"Mom...?" said Vergil, feeling rather brave for entering the room first, but more concerned with his mother's tears. Dante still held to the door, barely poking his head inside, his little face strewn with worry. Seeing his mother cry nearly made him want to cry too.

Eva sniffled a bit and wiping her eyes in a hurry turned to face her son. She forced a small smile on her face.

"E-everything's alright darlings," she said. "I've just gotten a bit of bad news. Everything's all right, though. There's nothing wrong," she said, kneeling down and putting out her arms. "Come here, both of you. Dante, Vergil...Come here," she said softly.

Thinking about the way the letter described the surviving girl's predicaments she felt this terrible need to embrace her sons.

Vergil went up to his mother and so did Dante, who finally detached himself from the door and hurried to her. Both children embraced her worriedly, each twin tucking his head on one of her shoulders.

"Wh-why... are you crying, mom...?" whispered Dante.

Eva hugged the boys lovingly; grateful she had them and grateful for their good health and liveliness. "Its nothing Dante," she assured the boys. "Just a small problem. Mummy's getting old, it seems, I'm crying over little silly things. I'm sorry to make you worried, boys. I love you both so much," she lied. She couldn't bear to burden the children with her fear and grievance.

"I love you too!", they said at the same time, trying to console her with a joint, tight hug.

Sparda, still standing, looked at them and smiled slightly...for a moment only. He shared Eva's fears. The thought of seeing his beloved family, having the same fate as the Templars, grabbed at his heart with a frozen hand. He gazed at the boys. He would have to start teaching them how to fight, for good measure, even though he never wished to see them involved. But he also worried about little Tess. He felt genuinely sorry about the child.

Eva couldn't help a smile at her boys' reaction and then she laughed a bit, her eyes still misty for tears and savored the feeling of her sons. The most precious things she had in the world. Although she held them both warmly, she couldn't help but feel her heart ache for the surviving girl of the other couple.

_"Forced to live with what she's seen, without the loving touch of a mother…Oh, heaven have mercy on her,"_ she thought sadly. Her heart went out to the child and she prayed that the girl would be able to mend in time.

Sparda gulped a little. He could tell the boys would understand something grave had happened, if the sorrowful feeling hanging about the air didn't dissipate soon. He forced his sadness down and clapped twice with a small smile. "Come on boys, don't burden your mother so much. It's late, time for bed now."

The boys looked up at him with a slightly displeased look as they glanced at their father's hands now inviting them to take hold. Giving in they did and he suddenly grabbed them by their torsos and picked them up, eliciting small yelps of surprise and amusement from them.

"Your mother's always putting you two to bed, and I've heard you're not quite obedient," Sparda chuckled, carrying them cutely under his arms as they flailed laughing. "We'll see about that!" he jested, as he carried them out the study and up the stairs to their room, while the twins giggled and protested childishly.

Eva brought her hand to her mouth to chuckle as she watched her husband sweep up the twins and carry them upstairs. She turned back, picked up the letter from her husband's desk, turned off the lights and then followed them upstairs herself. She looked over the letter. It was a pity they had to hide the child. She thought for a second that could have been a sort of consolation for her. She sighed, folded the letter and hurried up the stairs.

Reaching their bedroom, Sparda first dropped Dante in his bed, and Vergil in his.

"Now change your clothes and go sleep kids! Tomorrow, if wake up early in the morning, your mother and me have a present for each of you," he said kindly.

"A present? Yay!" Dante exclaimed and eagerly hurried to change into his pajamas and shuffled under the covers. Vergil, however, smiled and looked up to his dad, a little wary.

"What's wrong, Vergil?" Sparda asked, seeing his son's curious look.

"Well...I wonder why we deserve a present just for waking up early?"

Dante's face poked out of the covers that same instant. "Aw come on Vergil! We get a present, why d'you hafta complain!? I don't care why, don't listen to him dad!"

Sparda laughed quietly. "Hahaha, you're right Vergil. Well, tomorrow is your birthday, that's why. Now go to bed, Vergil. Tomorrow will be special."

The boy nodded and finally content, changed into his pajamas as Sparda turned around and stepped out of their room, letting out a quiet "Good night" before closing the door. And as he closed it, he sighed and looked over the entrance of his bedroom, against which Eva leaned herself, her head tilted against the doorframe.

She looked at him with a grateful smile. She felt like she had aged ten years in one night, reading that letter. It seemed to have woken her to the reality of the dangers threatening them. She stood straight and walked up to him, quietly shuffling in his arms, seeking comfort in his presence.

He gladly embraced her as before and kissed her cheek, tightly hugging her with a hand on the back of her head, the other hand caressing her back softly. Eva didn't know what to say or do. She just wanted to stay there, feeling safe and secure in her husband's arms.

She managed to look up to him, with a sad smile. "Have I ever thanked you for all this happiness?" she asked him suddenly.

"Why, I didn't think you had to," he looked back at her eyes, caressing the side of her face, combing her hair doing so. "Don't thank me, Eva. I'm the grateful one. I do what I do, driven by this gratefulness. As I must love you the way I do."

She smiled a little wider, thankful. "Thank you, for your love," she said softly, holding up her hand to gently stroke his cheek as well. "I'm just worried now. I don't want to lose you. I don't want to lose the boys."

"Sshh, don't say these things," he interrupted her worry.

Without further discussion, he raised her chin with his index finger and tilted his head to kiss her lips softly. Eva shut her eyes as he kissed her sweetly, smiling faintly as he did so.

* * *

The End. 


End file.
